Halves and Parts

The second half of my day is always more pleasing to me than the first half. Most importantly, it is when I have my walk home from the metro. Since I have to be nowhere fast, I can take my sweet, sweet Chilean time. Its usually cooler (which actually might be a negative thing very soon; winter is approaching here, and besides the cold, winter also equals lots of rain), and I don't have to take the shortest, most time-efficient route to my house like I often do to the metro when I'm running late for classes. And there are multiple paths I can choose from, or I can turn down any new street if I please and, using my shrewd navigational skills as well as my migratory bird-like sense of direction, meander my way through the intricate entanglement that is the street layout of Santiago. I'm being pretentious. My neighborhood is actually very grid-like and I would have to be a complete idiot now to get lost in the area I have been living in since the beginning of March. Moving on...

I also really enjoy this time of day because, like my imagined gallivanting through las calles of Nunoa, my train of thought doesn't have its usual laundry list of things to run through, my tasks are complete and whether I had success or failure ("failure") that morning, by late afternoon it is done, and I can reflect on my day or my time here or what part of Chile I want to visit next, just mentally strolling through the streets of Speculation. The first week we arrived in Santiago we were given these little notepads by our directors at IFSA. What they were for, I wasn't really sure: writing down possible classes, keeping track of new Spanish words (most likely this was their intention) or short-handing key words and phrases to jog my memory for when it came time to journal. Caitlin's was a combination of all three, but the majority of it consisted of short, horribly scribbled notes about things I wanted to write about when I got in front of my computer. Seeing as I haven't even written past Torres del Paine, I would venture to say that almost all of my notebook has yet to see printed page, well, typed page to be more accurate. But that's okay because when I am on my way home, I don't think about the things I must do or the things that I should do, I just think. And then jot it down. And listen to my iPod. Or read. (I've become a sort of professional at walking and reading, truth be told). Yes, end-of-the-day walking is definitely the better of my two times of daily transportation.

And speaking of second halves of things...this past weekend just happened to be my halfway mark for my time here in South America. It seems like it came so fast, but thinking back on my first few weeks here in the city, they do feel farther away than I thought they would. I guess I didn't realize how long five months would be when I'm living in another country, away from every single person I know (this is excluding the people I met in Chile, obviously). It really puts time into perspective. I guess I feel like the end might be closer to me than the beginning is, but the beginning seems so far away that it kind of feels like I am never going to be back home again. What all this really means is that I need to stop counting days and just enjoy myself. So the only other countdown I will be keeping track of is for the day that Kimberly and Jade arrive at the airport in Santiago de Chile in July (ahhh!). So in honor of the first half, or second fourth or thirty-third sixty-sixth of my trip completed, I will get to some of those shorter memories from my notebook that have yet to find audience. I can't promise they will be in any order, and some of them will not have accompanying photographs, so use your imagination and work with me here people...

March 27: Palacio Cousino

Our history professor took us on a Carrete Cultural (cultural party) that day. We met at one of the metro stations and the first place we went was the Mansion of the Cousino family. It was huge and absolutely gorgeous, stunning really. Before we began the tour everyone had to don these slippers that fit over your shoes. I was given green but was in a stubborn mood and wanted blue to match my outfit. If I had to wear ridiculous slippers I wanted my choice of them. Turns out the blue was the smallest size and they barely fit over my sneakers, but I wasn't about to trade. After everyone else put theirs on, and we snapped a few obligatory photos in them, we shuffled off to the first room in the tour. There was a women's tea room and a men's as well. The women's room was decorated with velvet and paintings and this odd chair concoction that sat three people. It was a type of courting chair where the couple sits with a chaperon and all three seats face in a circle. How unfortunate. Interesting though. There was a fabulous art nouveau chandelier on the outside patio that was shaped like a bouquet and the light glasses were in the shape of flowers. Its really a shame that we weren't allowed to take photos because I wanted to of soooo many things. There was a room upstairs where the original flooring had been an indigenous peace sign over and over again. But to everyone alive after Nazi Germany it looked like a swastika. When very rich guests stayed in the house they would have to carpet the entire floor so as to not offend them. Eventually they redid the wood flooring in the entire house but they keep tiles from each room for display.

(these are some examples I found on Google of the chair and chandelier)

(Photos from the Palacio)

After the tour we went to a dive of a bar called Piojera to try their famous Terremotos. It was a combination of white wine, pisco, beer and pineapple flavored sherbet. One was enough for anyone. A couple next to us asked if we could take a photo with them since there were people going around with instant cameras trying to make a few bucks. Naturally, we obliged and a lovely friendship soon blossomed. The couple was a woman and her father, and they were both significantly wasted. It was noon. It was also Ana's 20th birthday, so our professor had the accordion guy come over and sing her a song. The bar sang with us and cheered for Ana. Then our friends came back over and we had some adorable conversation. The old man told us that he was 80-something, but apparently he told our professor that he was in his 60's. Throughout our meal they would continuously raise their glasses to us and give the most intense thumbs-up signs I've ever witnessed. I don't think you could convey the amount of appreciation and well-wishing that this man did in one hand gesture, even if you wrote a book of poetry or gave an hour-long speech or dedicated a large ocean liner. Then they wanted another photo, and we offered to buy this one for them to keep. When it was time to go we said goodbye to our new amigos, a few times actually...they were insistent, we headed outside and over to Mercado Central, the city's famous fish market to have lunch. Ana had some more serenading, we finished our delicious meals (I had Chilean sea bass) and soon our Carrete Cultural was complete, and we were all on way back home to rest up before Ana's family cooked out for us later that night.

Notes about the Metro

1. Usually all the metro stops I take are pretty much the same: wait for the train (during rush hour that means only every other train will go to your station), wait for the people to get off and out of your way, board (squeeze yourself onto) the train, find something to hold on to or otherwise brace yourself for the always abrupt start. But there is one station that isn't so monotonously repetitive: Estacion Tobalaba, just at the beginning of linea cuatro. The train pulls up just like any other, except with this eerie, ghost-like presence. Since it is at the beginning of the line, the train is always empty. And the fact that everyone just stands and watches this large body of person-less seats slowly come to a stop only adds to the feeling of paranormality. Its as if an episode of the Twilight Zone is about to begin. If I had been mentally unalert up to this point in my trip, I usually snap out of it at Tobalaba, if only just for a few minutes. Once on the train, one's mind pretty much goes back into autopilot rather quickly.

2. While on the subject of empty seats, I am always impressed with the ambition, the fervor, of the old ladies who are determined to snag an open chair. I feel like it is pretty much common sense that the seats are primarily for the elderly and the differently-abled. However, I also find it a little comical that the individuals in search of these seats somewhere find this super-human power to push past the rest of us to get to these areas first. They are quick. Its quite a show, and really it only proves that they are just as capable of standing as the rest of us. Don't get me wrong, I will stand up and give my chair to any older woman or man that is without one, but I am not fooled. Their aged appearance doesn't deceive me. I know that if I had not gotten the precious prize a station before them, then I too would have been shoved aside without a second thought, whether I wanted the bloody seat or not. I only hope that I, too, can live long enough to forcefully demand my right, pleasure and comfort of a plastic, TransSantiago hard-backed throne of success.

3. Oh, the wonders of the metro never cease to amaze me. I am often astonished with the fact that one more person can always squeeze on board before the doors close. Just when you think the cab is full, one more Santiaguino finds their way into a small crevice and wedges him or herself into place with just enough room that the doors don't catch them. Sardines have nothing on these passengers.

4. Walking out of my subway station I always look at the shadows cast by the sun under the stand of newspapers and concessions to see which path will provide me with more shade. If the shadow points toward me then I walk South first along Bilboa for a stroll down Amapolas with its tall shadows from the flower-covered walls. It if points predominantly East, then I follow Tobalaba to the next light and its Eliecer Parada with which I attempt to take shelter from the sun, and whose adorable, if not overly ambitious, barking dogs I know well.

April 17: Papudo

This was the weekend that my family went to the beach to celebrate a few birthdays, namely Arturo's (my host dad). It was very relaxing, and I spent a lot of time by myself taking photos of the beach, the rocks, and the waves. We also took a tiny trip to a nearby city that is famous for its long road of handmade sweaters. It was like a little retreat for me, and I took an unnecessary amount of pictures of the coast, so I was happy. Here are a few highlights of those couple days.

- I went all the way down the "sweater street" hoping to find the best and most perfect option for a sweater purchase. I was determined to scour the area until I left with the one article of clothing that I was meant to own. This is because...one, this place was all about outerwear, and I didn't want to miss the opportunity for a quality (and practical) memento from the mini-vacation. Two, I am not a big sweater-buyer so seeing as it wasn't something I was familiar with, I wanted to know what all my options were before committing. Well, wouldn't you know that after almost two hours and two sides of that long, long street, I bought a knit shawl from one of the first two stores I had entered earlier that morning. "A lesson from the Universe."

- In one of my days playing Little Mermaid by the big rocks, I stood on one at the edge of the shore. I was just thinking to myself how much I liked being in the middle of crashing waves, yet high enough that I stayed dry, when a really powerful swell came roaring into the rock I was daydreaming on, splashing my pants and causing me to rapidly abandon my Disney-themed playtime for a few minutes. "A reality check from Nature."

- The water rippling around in the mini pools had a rhythm and movement just like jellyfish when they swim, much more so than "jelly" ever actually does. I guess we can't very well call them "water" fish though, can we... "An everyday observation that makes the world around Caitlin a little more clear."

Conclusion:

At this point I believe that I have sat in front of the computer for long enough today. I have also decided that I will no longer attempt to keep my posts in chronological order. It keeps me perpetually behind, and that doesn't make anyone happy. By the end of this week a blog about last weekend in La Serena should be up, and I will just add in stories after that when I feel like it. It will be out of order, but I think that less pressure to get stuff posted and caught up will allow me to be more productive. Hope you enjoyed it and I'll do my best to stay on track with this bad boy.

Caitlin

:D